The fire burned with a bright, magical flame, far more consistent than any natural one. Alex, cross-legged in a chair beside it, had a book to read, and little interest in being distracted by flickering. There was enough pressing on her anyway, without that additional problem, and the book she was reading had been chosen because it required that she concentrated.

Dwelling on things outside her sphere of influence was pointless. Theo was entirely competent, and this was something that she had been anticipating for a while, an event which was as inevitable as an object hitting the ground after it fell. A body, perhaps.
Not an event without risks, but they were risks Theo knew. That Theo had planned for.

“I’m a bit of a mess,” Theo’s voice was the first sign of his presence. He was late, but not late enough to be truly worrying. Alex smiled at her book, checking the page before she looked up. A bit was an understatement, because a bit didn’t suggest that there was blood on his face, hands, and clothes.

“Just a bit,” she agreed, “Not yours?” Theo’s complexion was normal, his stance didn’t suggest any significant wounds, and blood looked so much more dramatic when it was spread out in such a fashion, but there was no harm in checking. She stood, putting the book on the table, and looking at Theo more intently before stepping closer.

She reached out, wiping her thumb carefully across Theo’s face. The blood there was still wet, and came away easily. “Much better,” she said approvingly, and then, as an afterthought, “Merry Christmas.”

His shadow stretched across the foyer, innocuous and grasping. As he made his way down the hall – up the staircase that led directly to the library – it writhed and thinned, ducking away from the glare of lights that, one by one, lit as he progressed.

The urge to send something ahead, anything to alert his presence, sparked in him. But as far as impulses went, it was only a whim; it had been a busy week. Alex deserved better.

He found her in the library, all but hidden by the armchair she’d chosen. At the question he shook his head, smiling slightly as she set the book aside, and bowed his head—the better for her to reach—docile as a lamb. He had tried to keep at least his face clean, but it had been all too easy, allowing himself get carried way by his own enthusiasm. “Merry Christmas to you as well,” he returned, eyes crinkling with affection. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

His gaze lit upon the book. He peered at it. Skagh! Thegh! Khavagah!. Hardly light reading material. He gave Alex a searching look—not quite frowning, but close.

 “You were within the margin I left for… minor mishap,” Alex replied, not quite smiling. Closer to the tail end than she would have liked, perhaps, and the rationale behind it had not totally eased her concerns. Since Theo had returned, cheerful as ever, there was no reason to voice either point.

Their height difference made it difficult to determine what Theo was looking at, but there was relatively little to look at, and less that would garner that response. “It’s… informative,” Alex offered, “though not particularly pleasant.” It was not as unpleasant as she had expected, but she was yet to meet the halfway mark. “More in line with your interests, I think.” The festive season, with its associated pleasantries and requisite meetings with family, had left her irritable, and Skagh! Thegh! Khavagah!’s brand of disturbing had been rivetingly distracting. Perhaps a more soothing choice would have been appropriate – or anything which didn’t depict, in lurid detail, the many uses that ghouls had found for eyeballs.

Later, they could discuss it more fully; now, Alex was more concerned about what Theo had been doing. “It went well, I assume?” she asked.

All pretenses of bashfulness disappeared under a surprised, and then intrigued, smile. He had heard of the title before, but only in certain circles that rarely saw the light of day; ghouls were neither diurnal nor pleasant creatures. Those who studied them – could study them, for any amount of time – tended to be of the same vein. With the abundance of idiosyncrasies and rituals to observe and analyze, the book promised to be a most fascinating read.

But further speculation on its virtue would have to wait; attention returned to another, more personal matter at hand, Theo’s smile deepened. “Oh, yes,” he beamed, all boyish satisfaction. “You are looking at the new owner and chairman of Graham Enterprises—to be renamed at a later date, of course.” From the depths of a back pocket he withdrew a single leaf of paper, neatly folded, slightly creased, and gently peppered with bloody fingerprints. He handed it over.

Unfolded, it revealed a list of initials and numbers in precise writing, forming four columns in total. Without context – or the notes in the margins – they made little sense, but upon closer inspection…

The titled columns were labeled 1st, 2nd, and 3rd.

“There were some delays,” he admitted, a little rueful. He pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his hands. “Not everyone was so keen on the changes.”

After the confrontation with Graham, corralling the other directors had been a simple matter of flushing out those last, lingering dregs of resistance, visiting upon them a choice and alternatives—in a clear and pithy manner. In some cases, that had entailed being held aloft hundreds of feet by a broken limb, or made to watch newly severed and transfigured ones face imminent fragmentation, or suspended by barbed hooks and elastic cords until they rethought their stance. After the first valiant stand, news had spread quickly – and gratifyingly so – but in the end, it had still taken time. Time, and a new table.

Director Tuft made a wonderful table, though.

“I must still see the others before New Year’s, to discuss separate developments within the corporation,” Theo continued, dragging the handkerchief up a forearm, “but it’s only a matter of setting a date.” Attendance, he was assured, would not be a problem. He took a step closer to read alongside her. “Inventory must be taken for every vault before assessments can be made.”

His lips thinned, turning down in an unhappy moue. “I suspect some of them are still hiding things from me, or have begun to. Several of the divisions are on the cusp of a breakthrough, and I want everything accounted for.” AntiVen Unlimited, the division of Graham Industries’ dedicated to potion research and development, held a great amount of personal interest for the lad, but the others were not without promise. A few others had actually garnered a lift of his brows, and if their potential was realized…

Well. It would be under the corporation’s name, or no one’s at all.

Theo looked at Alex, gaze ingenuous and open. “Will you come with me? Just for a visit. I’ve already identified several suspects, so it needn’t be a wild goose chase.” His tone took on a soft, teasing lilt. “Almost none of them know Occlumency…”

Alex took the paper cautiously, “Not quite signed in blood.” But close enough, and if the board members had been less than keen, they had probably required persuasion. She could easily imagine what form the persuasion took. She had been present for experimentation, and while Theo was patient, it was only when he felt he had time to spare.

Besides, there would always be some who would need persuasion.

The document wasn’t the clearest, but it was coherent. “Perhaps you might avoid bloodying things that could be required for audit?” Blood stains could be removed, but Theo’s new title could very easily be investigated, and not having a literal paper trail of evidence would be helpful.

Taking over was just the beginning; maintaining power required attention. The signatures on the page meant little compared to the rewards promised by greed and ambition, and she had no doubt that one (or several) would soon make a bid for power. When that happened, of course, Theo would… bestow his full attention upon them.

Alex sighed, but she was already smiling a little. “Hardly a challenge, then.” But… it would be good opportunity. She lacked a broad experience of legilimency, and could count on her fingers the number of people she had used it on. Using it against someone unfamiliar would be educational. And who was Alex to pass up a perfectly good learning experience?

“I’m sure I’ll be able to help.” Alex did have things to do, but they could be rescheduled. Especially the things which involved blood relatives. No doubt they would miss her, but she would be remiss not to offer them some poor behaviour to complain about.

At her delicate reminder, Theo’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “It’s a copy,” he protested. But only mildly; there was truly little such as concern to warm the cockles of one’s heart. “The copy is at Gringotts.”

Though whether it would stay there remained to be seen. The renowned establishment’s track record wasn’t quite as unblemished as it had been in the past, thanks to the Boy Who Lived, although Theo had little doubt that the goblins had buckled down since then to rectify that. There were many ways to improve one’s idea of ‘high security’ when it currently consisted of a rabbit warren of passages, a couple of curses, and a half-starved dragon.

He watched as deft hands folded up the sheet, until one handed it back—a little smile at the other end of it. “Excellent,” he beamed. Both sheet and handkerchief disappeared into his pocket once again. “When would it be most convenient for you?” As soon as possible was preferable, but given the alacrity with which he had concluded an entire week’s worth of business, and that the holidays did not pose much of a concern for either of them, they had enough time to address this particular matter at a more reasonable pace.

In fact, Theo was quite looking forward to it. There was a certain amount of challenge to be found in finishing something as quickly and ruthlessly as possible, but at heart he was merely a lad who liked to take his time when he pushed another’s limits far beyond their threshold for pain.

“Mother and Maddie shall be out shopping in Knightsbridge today,” he mused. “Later, Maddie will be dropped off with the Hughes.” Or was it the Weasleys? His sister’s social engagements always escaped him. “Perhaps then?”

“Of course.” It would be unlike Theo to have made such an oversight, but he could have been caught up in his enthusiasm. He had always been a little messy when it came to such things, and she preferred to be certain. With something as serious as this, no allowance for error could be made.

“I’m going to the Spectres’ in the evening to meet Balfour’s beau,” Alex said, with just a hint of asperity, “but there’s nothing unavoidable during the day.” Nothing which took precedence over this, and she understood why Theo wanted things to get underway quickly; it would be inconvenient if people had to be… chased down. “Will that be long enough?”

“Are you searching for anything specific? Or just confirming your assets?” She could be more efficient if he had a clear idea of what might be misattributed, or conveniently overlooked, and since they would be constrained for time, direction would be helpful.

With every question Alex posed, Theo’s smile widened. Truly no one was as lucky as he to have her as a friend. “Both,” he replied. The later was a given. As for the former… “One of the directors confirmed that there may be a few patents missing.” Had Theo been anyone else, he would have rolled his eyes; humanity’s penchant for salvaging what they could before deserting was not unfamiliar to him. “I have several names, but not everyone who has them or what has been stolen. It will take some time to comb through them all, and anyone else whose name comes up.”

More brightly, he continued, “But yes—that should be enough.” More than enough, in fact, since he had taken the liberty of locating them a few of them himself. One of them was even waiting in the oubliette as they spoke, and Theo was reasonably sure that he would be ready by morning. Theo slanted Alex a sly, playful little smile. “You will have plenty of time to make your meeting.”

Her disdain for such things had always been one that amused as much as it garnered sympathy. Indeed, Theo had been his most sympathetic after suffering through something very similar fairly recently; for all that Theo respected his cousin Oscar, a bigot he was not. Nor was he a traditionalist. Faced with her Victorian ideals and careless brand of prejudice, the younger wizard had found his cousin’s new wife exceedingly tiresome—though he concealed it well, bearing every outing that followed with a kind of patience most mistook for affection.

When her manner towards him cooled after finding out about Ji-Hyun… well. Suffice to say he was not mourning its loss. Oscar was a more complicated matter, but one Theo was prepared for. Whatever the outcome.

“What do you know of him?” Theo asked, head cocking to the side in genuine curiosity. Balfour Spectre, in his experience, was a charming, openminded extrovert prone to demonstrations of physical affection. His choice of partner could be almost anything, from a near copy of himself to a polar opposite, though his solicitous streak suggested that a complementary counterpart might be the likelier of the two.

Theo’s information was not as precise as Alex would have liked, but names – and knowing that it was patents to search for, rather than capital or other assets – were more than enough to go on. Fear would lessen any ability that they had to resist, and the nature of thought was such that finding one deception would swiftly lead to others. “Very well,” she agreed, “I’ll do what I can.” And that was all she could do – she wasn’t prepared to promise anything she might not be able to achieve, especially given her limited experience of legilimency.

“Not much,” she said, frowning. Of course, she didn’t entirely trust Balfour’s character appraisals (he still insisted that she was cute), so even if he had said anything, she would have reserved judgement until she had met him. “He’s Johann Storm, son of the late Wolfgang Storm. A linguist. But aside from that, Balfour is being very close lipped.” While he was open about his affections, he had said very little about their object, and most of the other information he’d provided had been frustratingly vague. What good was knowing that he’d had a difficult year – obvious enough, since his father had passed away – or that Whiskey liked him? “I’ll find out tomorrow.”

She was interested, though not precisely looking forward to meeting him. People tended to disappoint, people who would have a significant effect on her godfather’s happiness even more so.

“How were your family?” Alex liked Idara, though she knew Theo’s feelings were considerably more lukewarm. But, like her own, his extended family included a number of people who had to be suffered, and since he was dating a muggleborn, she was sure that any number of delightful things had been said about the importance of bloodlines, and how essential it was that they all became inbreds with preposterous chins.

With so little information offered, Theo mulled over it quickly.  However useful a linguist’s skills could be, Johann’s relation to the late Wolfgang Storm was by far the most interesting thing of note. It might explain, then, Balfour’s protectiveness, if that was the reason. Still, the lack of information was… less than satisfying.

Even less so were thoughts of his own family. Theo was too independent to spare more than a thought for what they might think of or feel about his choices, and he cared even less now that he knew he wasn’t actually related to them. But not even true detachment could keep their company from grating on his nerves; more often than not he found his attention beginning to wander in their presence, simply out of self-preservation. As a whole his relatives were amusing at best, but rarely by their own wit or volition. And these days, they were not even that.

Still, the corners of his mouth curved upwards. “Grandmother Sarah is disappointed in me,” he said lightly, tucking his hands into his pockets. He did not look very broken up about it. “Others were… less diplomatic.” Relatives who seemed uncertain how to treat him now were no more polite than the ones who openly delighted in his ‘disgrace’. “Oscar is losing patience with me, though he is trying.” For how long, though, was the real question.

And then, of course, there was, “Mother and Father are getting a divorce.” His smile faded into a pensive moue. He wanted to sit down, but given the state of his clothes he doubted Alex would appreciate bloodstains on the upholstery. “Now that he knows I am not his, and since I am over seventeen–” and had proven quite capable of fending for himself time and time again, “–he has decided to remove me from his will.”

Alex’s eyebrows lifted slightly, able to picture all too clearly the expressions of disappointment that Theo’s family had expressed. Aunt Emily was exceptionally keen on making sure that all of her relatives made advantageous marriages to nice purebloods, and regularly expressed her concern that neither Alex nor her cousins had managed to secure someone appropriate.

“Mother and Father are getting a divorce. Now that he knows I am not his, and since I am over seventeen, he has decided to remove me from his will.”


What could one say in response? Alex tried to imagine what Balfour would say, but – for all his silliness – Balfour was wiser than she was. Theo must have known that being disowned was a possibility, and he wasn’t attached to his parents in the way most people were, but a lower level of interest didn’t mean there was none. Theo didn’t need the money, but he might want some of it. And, no matter how much one might wish that one was indifferent to one’s parents, true indifference was frustratingly difficult to attain.

She bit back the temptation to change the subject, to one less troublesome. The weather, perhaps. Theo requiring a change of clothes.

“My condolences,” she said, after a pause, smiling when Theo laughed.

“Do you think he’ll tell people?” Some men preferred not to know they were cuckolded, and while Alex understood wanting to keep one’s personal life private, she suspected that it more often came from a place of pride. Misplaced, but what else would feelings be? “Would you?” It was an idle suggestion, born of a passing thought, but Alex could see the reasons for it – the reminder that Theo really was a self-made man, preventing other people from using the information to damage him. Whether they outweighed the costs was another matter entirely.

Lips had begun to quirk upwards, amused by the very thought of his proud father disclosing such a thing. The Whitmans did not hate each other as much as Alex’s family seemed to, but that was hardly a ringing endorsement; few families did, and the bigger they were, the less sympathy was to be found beyond one’s own branch. To willingly give one’s relatives ammunition was unthinkable.

Theo, however, knew that the narrative could be different for him, and because of that– “I might,” he decided after a pensive moment’s thought, “were I asked directly.” Advertisment without aim was worthless; disclosure without invitation was twice as foolish. But if he were asked… It would make a good story, he knew. WHITMAN SON FORGES OWN PATH, or something of that vein. Human interest was predictable that way.

It was unfortunate, then, that he could not only think of himself.

“Maddie still needs to be informed,” he sighed, “or I may find myself pestered, by some manner of creature.” If not Maddie herself. Truthfully it would be akin to being lecture by a small, yapping dog: inconsequential, but still irritating. Theo’s relationship with his sister was one best defined by mild interest and the occasional indulgence; it was the inevitable hurt, really, that would be the most bothersome; every year it took a little more, a little longer to distract her, when he himself grew busier. Now that he was in possession of over half a dozen major companies – nearly all of them to be turned inside out to his satisfaction – and what was at least a thousand people, this was no longer an inconvenience he could allow.

In his pique, he raked a hand through his hair until it hooked around his neck, rubbing at the small but persistent ache he had been content to ignore until now. When he pulled his hand away, he found fingertips flecked with dry blood. The corners of mouth ticked up, rueful, and stayed that way as he looked back at Alex. “I should wash up.” Any footprints he had tracked inside the house had long since disappeared into the carpet, but the enchantment did not extend to the furniture. (More importantly, the library was sacred.) He shot the timepiece perched on the fireplace a glance. “Will you be up for much longer?”